


The Real McCoy

by LaingLeigh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: SPOILERS WITHIN Tag to episode 12x17 The British Invasion British Men of Letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 05:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12292254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaingLeigh/pseuds/LaingLeigh
Summary: IF YOU HAVEN'T CAUGHT UP WITH 12 TURN BACK NOW! SPOILER WARNINGS WITHIN!!! I REPEAT TURN BACK NOW!It's unbeated. I'm still recovering. This is me dealing with the process. I'm so not okay.A fix it fic.





	The Real McCoy

The Real McCoy:  
By: Leigh Laing 

Dean jumped when Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” 

Dean eased as he sat up in his chair. The booze went straight to his head making the bunker spin. Sam was blurry only for a moment before he came into focus. “Long night?” Sam asked. He didn’t fail to notice all the empty bottles and cans spread out at his big brother’s feet. 

“Ya could say that,” Dean pinched his temple. 

“How are you holding up?” Sam dared to ask. 

Dean chuckled. “Let’s see Mom is in a shit hole AU with Lucifer, Crowley is dead, as is Cass.” Dean tightened his jaw line. “Then there is Lucifer Jr. who is out there, somewhere and there isn’t a damned thing we can do about it. We have no leads or backup besides a very select few…” He grumbled. “So, how am I holding up?” He mocked him. “I’m just fucking peachy,”

“You forgot one,” Sam piped up.

Dean gave him a pointed finger with a warning. “Don’t,” 

“What are you going to forget about Mick?” 

“Sam. I mean it. Don’t.” 

He lost his mom once; he might be able to do it again. That was fine. There was always a possibility that Mary might get out of that AU. He didn’t give a shit about Crowley. He could stay gone for all Dean cared. Cass, well, that was an open wound that still hurt like a nasty son of a bitch. Yet, gave himself time to mourn but not too long because he was hoping he’d swing back by his way. That’s why neither of them burned his body. Crowely’s they torched. Cass they preserved in the cold locker. He’d wait. No matter how long it took like the Richard Marx song. 

“What do you want me to say?” Dean tossed at him. “That he got shot in the back for doing what was right?! I give him credit for that but I’ll never forgive Ketch for what he did to him.” He swung what was left in his glass from last night.  
Sam found recorded video files on the night that Ketch shot Mick. The Men of Letters kept recorders of everything. If they didn’t leave a vile taste in the back of his throat, he’d be almost impressed by them. Almost. 

“We can’t even give him a proper funeral.” Dean spat. 

“Like one of us?” 

“Yup,” Dean popped his p. “He had so much positional,” he continued. “What a waste. At least, he did go out in a bang, so to speak.” 

Sam adjusted himself and cleared his throat. “What would you say to him if you had to chance to you know… Tell him how you felt?” 

“I dunno,” Dean answered. “More than likely apologize. I didn’t hate him. It was  
The Men of Letters.” He sighed. “The funny thing is Sammy, I see him sometimes like out of the corner of my eye or in a blur of a chase. I catch him. I have to remind myself he’s gone.” He let out a sad laugh. “Leave it to him to die on me just when I was starting to like him.” 

“If that’s all it took, then maybe I should’ve died sooner,” 

“No fucking way,” 

Sam smirked. 

Dean looked past his younger brother. His hazel eyes went wide at the sight of the man that was coming down to the table to join them. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You wouldn’t be wrong there,” 

“You’re dead,” 

“Am I?” Mick questioned with a smile. “You Americans are too quick to see what you want to see,” 

“I saw the video file, Ketch shot you!” Dean was on his feet. “How?” 

“Oh, I believe that’s for me to know and you find out.” Mick teased him. “I can’t give away all my secrets. Besides, miss out on what’s about to come? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

The former Agent of The Men closed the distance between him and Dean. “I’m sorry Dean,” He said. “You did see me from the corner of your eye and in a blur of hunt, you weren’t alone.” 

“All this time?” 

“Well, I did have to brush up and get a makeover it seemed.” 

Dean ceased him up with his eyes. The three piece suits were replaced with flannel, denim, and cotton with boots for kicks. Dean side glanced towards Sam. 

“Your doin’ I guess,” 

“Maybe,” Sam answered with a laugh. 

“Okay, what about your body and the explosion,” Dean pressed. 

“All a decoy,” Mick waved off as if it were nothing. 

“You both have some serious explaining to do,” Dean tried but failed miserably which Mick didn’t fail to notice. 

“Please don’t ever do that again. You’re terrible with an accent,” He swooped in to pour himself a glass of brandy. “May I?” 

“Yeah, and hey Mick,” 

“Hhhmm?” 

Without a warning to him, Dean punched him in the jaw. The crack echoed throughout the bunker leaving Dean to strain a bit. Mick barely even flinched. 

“I guess I deserved that,” 

“You guess?!” Dean yelled.

Sam slightly pushed Dean in Mick’s direction. “Are you going to continue punching him or hug it out?” 

Mick opened his arms for a waiting invitation. Dean brushed by Sam to embrace  
The Brit. He no longer smelt of that odd cologne that stung his nose. It was replaced by damn earth, iron, and a hint of somewhere far away where Dean’s never been. Mick smiled in his arms. 

Mick pulled apart but kept him in arm’s length. “What is this I hear about no chick flick moments?” 

Dean chuckled as he wiped away a tear that slipped with his free hand. “He’s learning,” 

“I told you I was a quick study.”

“Well girls, we can either continue to stay here to braid each other’s hair or,” Sam suggested. “We can start picking up Jack’s trail,” 

“While I picked up on The Bunny Man case in Virginia…” Mick brought up.  
Dean raised a eyebrow. “Bunny Man?” 

“I’m sure Sammy can explain on the way,” Mick answered. “There seems to be a Witch Rising in Salem,” 

Dean shuddered. “Witches, I hate witches,” 

“We know Dean, we all know,” Sam teased him. 

“Okay then Mick,” Dean replied. “How about we go get your hands dirty…” Dean stopped a moment to correct himself. “Er, dirtier,” 

“I’ll follow if you lead,” Mick gestured towards the door only to follow The Brothers Winchester on the way out to their next case.


End file.
